


From One Christmas to the Next

by Musichick2004



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Technology, BDSM, Betrayal, Christmas, Dubious Science, Eventual Smut, Hurt, Kidnapping, M/M, Military Experiments, Rescue, Science Experiments, Technology, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musichick2004/pseuds/Musichick2004
Summary: Senior shows up, unannounced on Christmas eve, wanting to make amends. Again. After his visit, Tony notices some changes, which cause tension within the team. One day, Tony is reassigned indefinitely, with no warning or explanation. The team searches, and after months, what they find shocks everyone, and Senior won't be making any more surprise Christmas visits ever again.





	1. CHRISTMAS INTERRUPTUS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rose_malmaison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/gifts).



> This work does have significant violence in some chunks, but they will be noted at the top of the chapter, and the reader can skip/ski

Tony groaned in a mixture of relief and exhaustion as he dropped his bag onto the floor of his apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him and winced at the harsh jangle of his keys falling into the bowl by his door. It was 3am and he felt like he was already falling asleep as he toed off one shoe, then grabbed for the back of the chair to stop from toppling over when he reached for the other.

Then, he froze. Beneath his hand was a thick wool that he _knew_ was not his own. Quietly, he removed his shoe and set it on the floor, his hand still brushing the fabric, quickly discerning that there was a high quality overcoat draped over his favorite chair. Slowly, he unholstered his weapon and crossed the room, looking for the intruder. The kitchen was empty, save for the bubbling of his coffeemaker that he’d started when he was 10 minutes from home. He swept the bathroom, then slowly pushed open the door of his bedroom. There was a faint snoring coming from the figure lying on his bed. Tony checked the room for others, and when he was satisfied this was the only person in his apartment, he stepped toward the bed. Just before demanding the person identify themselves, he noticed something metallic on his nightstand. He glanced down and sighed, lowering his weapon. The item which had caught his attention? A gold tie bar engraved with the letters A.D.D., accented with diamonds. A gift he had given his father for Christmas many years prior. And, of course, next to the tie bar, was a glass. An almost-empty glass.

“Jesus Christ.” Tony grumbled, picking up the glass and wiping away the ring of condensation with his sleeve. “Never could be bothered to use a damn coaster.”

Tony closed the door behind him, no longer concerned with the volume of his activity. He wasn’t going to kick the man out on Christmas, but he sure as hell didn’t have to totally accommodate this unannounced intrusion.

 _Why the Hell did I give him a key again?_ Tony thought to himself. It must have made sense at the time, and Senior never stayed anywhere without a concierge, so Tony had honestly forgotten it had even happened.

He rinsed the glass and placed it into the dishwasher, then poured himself a cup of coffee. _Thank God for technology,_ he thought, chugging half the cup of burning liquid. The coffee didn’t keep him awake anymore, it just helped fend off the soul-crushing headaches he now got if he went more than 8 hours without a cup. He sat the cup on his coffee table (on a coaster) and dropped onto the couch. He fell asleep before he even finished unbuttoning his shirt.

_~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~_

Tony bolted upright, whacking his hand on the coffee table in the process. Someone was in his kitchen! Quickly, his awake-brain caught up with his “fight or flight” instinct, and he remembered his surprise visitor. Glancing down, he frowned in confusion...his lower body was covered with a thick blanket he normally keeps on the foot of his bed. It must have magically flown across the apartment, because he didn’t remember getting it, and it sure as hell wasn’t Senior.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. Merry Christmas, Son.”

Still confused, Tony looked up at the suspiciously jolly face of the man who called himself his father. (Sometimes). “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

Senior smiled even wider, “Can’t a man want to be around family on the holidays? I hope the blanket is OK, it’s the only one I could find. Here, I figured out that fancy coffee maker--hazelnut creme, right?”

Tony slowly took the cup from his hand and continued to stare as the older DiNozzo made himself comfortable in the chair beside him. He took a sip of the coffee and held back a shudder. He didn’t often admit it, but Gibbs had rubbed off on him over the years, and this weak, over-sugared coffee was a little revolting. “Considering your opinions on _every_ aspect of my life, and my lack of importance in _your_ life, yeah, I think I’m allowed to be a little suspicious.”

Senior sighed. “Junior--”

“Tony,” he corrected.

“Tony,” Senior continued, “someday you’ll understand, but when a man gets to be my age, we start to really take stock of life. Holidays are supposed to be about family, and I’ve really messed things up with mine.” He shrugged and stared into his own cup of coffee. “With you.”

Tony swallowed his groan and contained the eye roll. “Why now? Why not find another girl and make up a new family with her? Why do you have to bother me?”

“Damnit, you little--” Senior gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply. “I mean...Son. I’m trying to do some good here. Why do you have to throw it away?”

Tony dropped the coffee onto the table with a clunk. “You threw me away. Plenty of times, in case you forgot.”

“So, _I’m_ trying to be a better man, and _you_ just want to be like the old me?”

Tony cringed. Not just at the obvious passive aggressive guilt trip, but also at the fact that it worked. He _knew_ the guilt was stupid, but he also couldn’t get rid of it. “ _Fine._ You can stick around today. But no presents, and no fancy dinner--we have a team potluck in a couple of hours. I’m making lasagna. If you’re coming, figure out what you’re bringing. Not alcohol. Gibbs is pickled enough.”

“ _Gibbs_?” Senior scoffed, “What happened to--”

“A better man?” Tony interrupted with a glare.

“Fine.” Senior forced a smile, “Let’s get cookin’. I’ll grill some eel.”


	2. DINNER DRAMA

“Oh, Junior, I don’t know how you do it!” DiNozzo Senior laughed heartily as he pulled Ziva and Abby into a hug, “Working with these gorgeous ladies? Especially with the hours you keep? How have you not swept one of them off their feet yet? I’m pretty sure you got at least  _ some _ of my luck with the ladies!” 

Abby giggled uncomfortably and extricated herself from Senior’s arm, “Oh, come on…Tony’s like my big brother. He’s family!” She placed herself beside Tony--partially to put distance between her and Senior, but also placing herself in front of Tony, almost protectively.

“Oooh, ouch, Son...brother? Isn’t that worse than...what do the kids call it nowadays...friendzoned?”

Tony saw Abby’s spine straighten just a bit. Before she went on the attack, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Dad, shut it. Anyone would be lucky to have a little sister like Abby. Especially one who can make your life miserable with a few keystrokes.” He smirked and took a sip of egg nog.

“Ok, ok,” Senior raised his hand--the one without the bourbon. “But hey, maybe you’re not distracted by these raven-haired beauties because someone else caught your eye, huh? That young fella Jimmy is real pretty. Not my type of course, but considering lack of companionship, maybe you should go that route…”

Tony gritted his teeth and felt Abby tense, but he held her back. Ziva snorted, “Oh, that  _ is _ ridiculous,” She swatted Senior’s shoulder. “Tony is almost as charming with the ladies as you are. We just do not have relations at work.”

“Relation _ ships _ , Ziva.” Tony corrected.

“Yes, that is what I said.”

Tony huffed in amusement.

Senior cleared his throat and removed his arm from Ziva’s shoulder. “OK, I know I overstepped there. If I’m trying to rid myself of old habits, I need to try harder. Even though it’s difficult with such temptation.” He looked at Ziva and shrugged. “Here, let me help with some of the cleanup.” He took Tony’s now empty glass, and the plate Abby had been holding and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Ziva glared at Tony. “You did not have to make him feel unwelcome, Tony. He is your father, even if he has not always been so kind.”

Tony shook his head, “Ziva, just because you have daddy issues, doesn’t mean we all do.”

~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~~

Senior stepped into the kitchen where Jackson was washing and Gibbs was drying dishes. He cleared his throat. “Uh, got room for two more?”

Gibbs put the plate back in the drainer, flicked the towel onto his shoulder and slowly turned, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Hey Chief, finally decided to stop harassing my team?”

Senior’s jaw dropped, “Mr. Gibbs, I don’t consider being social with my son’s coworkers to be harassment.”

Jackson snorted, “Coulda fooled me,” he mumbled.

Senior heard him, but chose to ignore it. “I’m just trying to do good by my boy. Haven’t been the best father, you know? I gotta start somewhere.”

Gibbs reached out and took the dishes from his hands. “Yeah, but you always seem to screw it up, don’t you?”

Senior scowled at him, “Hey, you and your dad weren’t on the best of terms, and now look at you. Washing dishes together like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Domestic bliss.”

Gibbs stepped close to Senior, nose to nose. “That is  _ very _ different. We didn’t understand each other, but he always cared. You? You’d sell Tony out in a heartbeat if you thought you could make a buck.”

Senior stepped back and shook his head, turning away from Gibbs’s confrontation. “Maybe before. But I’m turning over a new leaf. You’ll see.”

“Mmmhmm.” Jackson shook his head, taking the glass and plate from his son.

After Senior left the kitchen, Jackson rinsed his hands and turned to meet his son’s eyes. “I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him. You watch that boy, Jethro.”

Gibbs nodded. “Always do.”

~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~~

Back at the apartment, Tony settled onto the couch. It was late, and he had a distinct feeling he wouldn't get the whole night of sleep before a case rolled in.

“More egg nog?” Senior sat next to Tony on the couch and held out a glass filled with the creamy drink.

“I can’t...I’m back on call.” He stretched and yawned dramatically to accentuate the point.

Senior pushed the glass into his hand, “Oh, one drink won’t hurt. Hell, I’m sure that boss of yours is drunk half of the time anyway. Have a nightcap with your old man.” He clinked his glass against the rim of Tony’s. “Merry Christmas, my boy.”

The sincere look in his eyes made Tony sigh resolutely. “Merry Christmas.” He cringed at the crappy rum barely diluted by the rest of the drink. He’d gotten used to the good stuff, after years with Gibbs, and he’d forgotten how bitter the cheap stuff could be. But hey, just because his dad liked to play rich, didn’t mean he actually  _ was _ .

Senior wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder, and the pair sipped their drinks in front of the small tree on Tony’s mantelpiece. Tony quickly felt exhaustion and liquor kicking in, and this time his dramatic yawns gave Senior the hint, and Tony fell asleep on the couch again.


	3. HOLIDAY HANGOVER

Tony groaned and slapped at his phone buzzing on the coffee table. His head was throbbing and he could barely open his eyes. _If there’s any of that two-dollar rum left,_ he thought, _it’s going down the drain._

“Yeah?” He mumbled, half into the arm of the couch beneath his face, once he picked up the phone. As suspected, it was a case.

Tony started up some coffee (of a decent strength) and took a quick shower. Unsurprisingly, his father was still asleep, so he grabbed his go back and slipped out the door.

~~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~~

Tony squinted as he drove, speeding toward the crime scene while trying to get his sunglasses from their case. Driving into the sun while hungover was not doing his headache any favors.

 _One shitty egg nog and I’m this bad? Someone ought to take away my DiNozzo card,_ he thought. The sun seemed extra bright, reflecting off the fresh snow, and even noises were louder than ever. He really hoped this hangover wasn’t turning into a migraine.

He pulled up to the crime scene, flashed his badge to the officer at the perimeter, and ducked under the tape. “What’s up McBeanie?” He flicked the top of McGee’s knit hat.

Tim rolled his eyes and pushed his hat down to cover the tips of his ears. “Dead Marine, seems like a drunken bar fight, so it should be quick.”

“Oh, never assume, Timmy. Knowing us, this will turn into a drama-filled conspiracy we’ll be working on for 36 hours in a row until we’re driven crazy from a caffeine overdose.” Tony grinned at McGee, who simply rolled his eyes.

“Tough crowd.” He shrugged.

“DiNozzo, interviews.” Gibbs barked as he brushed past.

“On it, Boss,” Tony stepped a bit to the side to give him some room and tipped slightly.

“Gotta cut back on the egg nog?” McGee asked.

Tony got his balance and made a face at his coworker. “Haha,” he said flatly. “Lack of sleep, McSquare, plus cheap rum from the old guy currently sleeping it off in my apartment. I’ll be fine.”

In the end, McGee’s assumption was correct: Marine had come home to surprise his girlfriend on Christmas, found her in bed with another guy, so he went drinking. He got into a fight, and a more sober local guy shoved him into the bar headfirst, then bolted. Back in the office, Tony sat at his desk and immediately pulled his reading glasses out of his desk. Normally, he avoided letting himself be seen wearing them, but with the headache he hadn’t been able to shake, he swallowed his pride.

“Ah, looking like Mr. Magee, there DiNozzo,” Ziva chuckled.

Tony peered over the top of his designer frames, “Magoo. Mr. Magoo. And I prefer distinguished.”

“As long as it gets the paperwork done,” Gibbs grumbled from his desk, squinting through his own glasses and banging on the keyboard anytime something didn’t go his way.

Tony logged in and started to type his report.

“I think you might need a stronger prescription, Tony,” McGee said, looking concerned.

“Huh? Why? No, these are barely anything, I probably don’t even need them…” Tony said, pulling the glasses off his face.

“I dunno, you’re still squinting.”

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands and looked up at the computer screen. “Huh.” He frowned, then shrugged. “Nope, just didn’t need the readers at all today.”

“Good for you, quit the yapping so we can go home.” Gibbs grumbled.

“Yes Boss,” Tony and Tim said together.

~~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~~

Tony turned off his monitors and stood up to stretch. “Sent them to you, Boss. See ya in the morning.” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. His headache had waned to a dull throb, but now his whole body was achy. He made a mental note to get some echinacea and elder flower tea on the way home. There were some perks to having had a few dates with a new age chick, besides her yoga proficiency. Anything to stave off the chance of the flu.

Gibbs watched Tony stretch and wince. His second was not a stranger to drinking all night, but he was never this affected so long after. “Get some rest, DiNozzo. Take an hour in the morning.”

Tony shook his head, “Nah, it’s fine--”

“That’s an order. I can’t afford for you to get the flu.” Gibbs interrupted.

Tony sighed. Gibbs knew him too well, and he also would kick his ass if he didn’t take the hour. “G’Night, Boss.”

Gibbs grunted in response.

~~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~~

“OK, this is just weird.” Tony frowned as his father served him a bowl of Minestrone and slices of freshly baked bread.

“What? You had a long day. The veal will be done in 10 minutes or so, eat up.” Senior took the apron off and draped it over the back of the chair, and then sat down.

Tony sipped the soup...which was actually pretty good. He wondered where his father ordered it from.

“Look, Son...I want to do right by you. It’s late, I know, and I’m not real good at doing the right thing, especially when there are other people around. I’m not asking for something immediate, I’d just like to maybe do things like this every once in a while. A meal here or there, and work up to something bigger. I know, maybe next year we can go skiing! I mean, as long as you haven’t cut up another of my ski suits,” Senior laughed heartily.

“Not funny. You ruined that Halloween.” Tony put his spoon down.

Senior stopped himself from getting angry, and instead, replied “I know. I mean, you were a kid, you didn’t know how expensive that was. But good initiative.”

Just then, the timer went off, and Senior jumped up to pull the veal parmesan from the oven.

Tony sat uncomfortably while his father served the main course. He couldn’t handle this anymore. But aside from some drunken “flirting” (douchebaggery) the day before, he hadn’t done anything to warrant being thrown out. He started unconsciously rubbing his neck and the back of his head.

“You know, you need to take care of yourself,” Senior told him after placing the plate in front of him. “Maybe I should get you all massages for the holidays.”

Tony choked a little, “OK, that’s enough.”

Senior looked at him blankly.

“I mean it. This has gone too far. You want something gradual, fine. That’s done now. Making veal parmesan from scratch and buying massages? Too much. I need sleep. I appreciate the visit, but next time call first,” Tony stood, “I can pack up your dinner.”

Senior pressed his lips together, obviously frustrated with this turn of events. “I thought you liked veal?”

“Not the point.” Tony pulled a plastic container from his cupboard and filled it with the breaded meat and sauce and pasta. 

Senior sputtered and mumbled, but Tony pushed the food into his hands and walked toward the door. He swung it open and looked at his father expectantly.

“Can I at least get my shoes on?” Senior asked, roughly gathering his things.

Tony smiled slightly, feeling a little bad again. “Yeah...I just need time, Dad.”

Senior nodded. He quickly checked his bag and headed for the door. “Can I call in a couple weeks?”

“That sounds good.”

 


	4. WORK WEIRDNESS

The next few weeks went fine. Senior called occasionally, but didn’t show up unannounced again. Tony even got a drunk phone call from his number--not him, some girl. She had apparently grabbed the wrong cell when trying to call her husband to make sure he wasn’t coming home early from his business trip. After the epic weirdness of his clingy Christmas, life seemed to be getting back to normal. 

Heck, really, it was better than normal. Even though, publicly, he claimed New Year’s resolutions were dumb, Tony had vowed to start eating healthier. It just  _ coincidentally _ happened around the first of the year. His next step toward physical improvement was training for his first triathalon. He had thought it would cause problems with his knee, especially after his slow weight gain over the past few years, so he’d made sure to start easy, and it had worked. No pain or weakness, even after an hour or more of strenuous exercise.

Apparently the extra stretching and interval training was improving his entire body, not just his knee. He recovered from the extra long cases with just a couple of hours sleep, his back wasn’t constantly aching from sleeping at his desk or on Abby’s crappy futon, his knee stopped popping after just a few sessions with his personal trainer Keith (who, by the way, was worth his fee if all Tony did was look at him in his tiny shorts…), he could drink more, and hangovers were few and far between.

Bonus...his stamina and recovery period in bed were extraordinary. He had Keith to thank for that discovery as well. He’d never really put trust in the miracles of cardiovascular exercise, he had just figured he was getting old, but 6 weeks seemed to have turned Tony’s body clock back a decade.

Except the headaches.

“Tony, you’ve taken aspirin every day this week,” McGee looked at him, concerned.

“Yeah. You try getting smacked upside the head on a regular basis, see how many you end up taking.” Tony swallowed the little pills dry.

McGee went back to his computer, but he kept glancing over at Tony, watching for any other signs of illness or head injury.

Tony felt McGee staring at him. He wished he would stop. Nothing would change, it was just this low-level headache that had plagued him for weeks. He felt great otherwise, but everything was a little bit louder, and his vision was so sharp it could get painful sometimes. He’d mostly gotten used to it by now, and knew he should probably tell someone, but with his luck, it was a freaking brain tumor. He decided to take his chances with aspirin and just work harder. On the plus side, his glasses had made their way to the trash can. He hadn’t used them since Christmas. Extra beta carotene in his diet or something.

With the quick advances in his training, Tony had brought some of that to his work. He chased perps with vigor, he leapt over obstacles like they were nothing. Not superhero level crap, he just felt like he did when he would chase down street punks in his beat cop days. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed that either.

“My dear Anthony,” Duckie shook his head. “You  _ really _ should be seen by a proper physician. From what Jethro said, this is more than a simple scrape.”

Tony limped into the cold office and hopped onto one of the steel tables. “Oh, Duck, it’s a sprain, nothing more. Gibbs is just paranoid.”

Duckie used his scissors to cut from the hole in the knee of Tony’s jeans down to the ankle.

“HEY! Duck, come on, these jeans are--”

“Ruined anyway, young man. Now let me look at you.” Duckie wiped the blood off of Tony’s leg and frowned. “Are you certain this was your blood?”

Tony shrugged and looked down at his leg. “I thought so, but I did tangle with Reese, and he certainly was bleeding.”

Duckie put on some gloves and ran his hand up Tony’s shin, feeling for breaks in the skin or bone. Finding none, he manipulated Tony’s leg, up and down, side to side, pressing on the patella, squeezing the joint. “I can’t find anything wrong.” He frowned.

“Well, that’s a good thing, right? Guess the jeans saved my skin at least.” Tony straightened and bent his leg several times, “Seems good as new. Guess I just had to walk it off!” He hopped off the table, “Thanks, Duck.”

“Anthony, wait--” Ducky touched his arm.

“Yeah?” Tony turned with a grin.

“You really could have gotten hurt. Jethro told me what happened. You threw yourself at him. You almost injured Ziva in the process. And this isn’t the first time. What’s going on with you? I expect these sorts of things from Jethro, but you’ve always been smarter.”

Tony shrugged again. “Maybe he’s rubbing off on me.  _ Used to, anyway _ , he thought with a smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Duck.”

Tony heard Duckie say something else, but he was already out the door and onto the elevator. Before he got to the bullpen, he flipped the switch to stop its ascent. He leaned back against the wall and pulled his ruined pant leg up to mid thigh. He ran his thumb across the knee where he knew he’d cut it open. It was his blood on his pants, that much he knew. But now his skin was smooth and unmarred. Where he’d practically seen bone peeking through the gash, there was just an odd texture and color. It was like he’d gotten a grey tattoo of someone’s knitting.

He bent the knee again. Put his full weight on the leg. Hopped a bit on it. No pain. It had been excruciating when he hobbled to the car, and damn painful when he limped into Duckie’s, but now it was fine.

This was getting weird.


	5. UNGRATEFUL GIBBS

Tony had pushed the knee incident to the back of his mind, but it still affected his job. It was affecting his judgement. And this time, it was Gibbs who noticed.

“NO!” Tony lunged forward, as fast as his legs could carry him, grunting as the crowbar came down on his shoulder, missing its original target. He heard bones crack and the pain was almost unbearable, but he pushed through, wrestling the killer to the ground, ignoring the fists and elbows to his face and broken collarbone.

“Y’know,” Tony said, breathlessly, once he cuffed the PCP-riddled Marine beneath him, “Life is tough, but it’s tougher when you’re stupid.” He grinned in success and looked up at the team.

McGee sat against the pillar when he’d been thrown earlier, and Ziva had just run in and over to Gibbs, who was still unconscious on the ground.

_ Fuck _ , Tony thought. He made sure the cuffs were extra tight and ran to Gibbs’s side, but Ziva stopped him. 

“You must ‘book’em Donn-o’ before he breaks those handcuffs. He is very strong. Gibbs is alright, he is just unconscious, and the ambulance is on the way.”

Tony looked down at the unresponsive body and didn’t have the heart to correct Ziva’s misspeak. He roughly dragged the Marine to the car and brought him into the interview room. Once he was safely secure, and Tony found someone to babysit him, he drove Gibbs-style to the hospital.

When he got there, he knew pretty quickly that Gibbs was awake. He just followed the sound of human-like growling and angry yelling to find his room. 

“I said I’m FINE. Get me the damn papers, or I’m leaving whether you take this damn tube outta my arm or not!”

Tony shook his head and strode into the room. “Gibbs, take a breath. They’re just doing their job.”

The room went silent. Gibbs yanked the IV out of his arm, ignoring the protests of the nurse beside him. “You, with me.” He grabbed Tony’s elbow and pulled him into the hallway, down several doors to the empty chapel.

“What. The. HELL, DiNozzo?” Gibbs got into Tony’s face.

Tony backed up, surprised, until his back hit the wall. “Um, you’re welcome?”

“What the hell am I doing walking and talking? He had me in his sights. What did you do?”

Tony shook his head,”I did exactly what you would have done for me. I kicked his ass.”

“Damnit, Tony, what’s gotten into you? Huh? You could have been killed!” Gibbs pushed him back against the wall harder. They locked eyes, and Gibbs’s voice lowered. “You don’t even care, do you?”

Tony smirked. “I always said I learn from the best.” He pushed Gibbs back and moved toward the door.

“No.” Gibbs growled.

“No what? No, don’t save you? No, don’t take a bullet to the arm to keep Ziva from getting killed? No, don’t dive into freezing water to save you and a teenage girl? No, don’t throw myself in front of a moving car to push McGee out of the way? No, don’t charge into a building without backup and get my face smashed in by a drugged up killer Marine?” He paused, “Hmm, oh, wait...those last two weren’t me, were they?” He stormed back into the room, right up to Gibbs. “Unless it’s a supervisory issue, you don’t get to tell me how to do my job. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life. Not anymore.”

Gibbs straightened his back, holding back the grimace of pain, “When a member of my team is repeatedly putting himself in unnecessary danger, damn straight I can tell him how to do his job. If you’re reckless, the whole team is at risk.”

“Since when do you do anything  _ straight _ , huh?” Tony went for the personal attack. “Oh, that’s right, nobody knows, do they?”

Gibbs inhaled sharply. “Tony--”

Tony smirked again, “No, don’t you ‘Tony’ me. You used me. I was your goddamn lap dog for how long? Two years? Almost three? It gets a bit fuzzy at the end when you started screwing Colonel Mann.” He shook his head. “And now you have the balls to complain when I save your life? That guy could have taken your head clean off, and you were out cold. What was I supposed to do, watch?” He felt his heart climb into his throat at the though, but pushed the fear down. He was supposed to be mad.

Gibbs saw it, though. He knew Tony still cared, knew that Tony would never stop caring, as long as he was alive. “Yeah, I was out cold. So I don’t know what the hell you did, DiNozzo, or how you’re here chatting with me without a goddamn scratch, but I guarantee you didn’t think it through.  _ THAT’S  _ the problem. It seems like you don’t care whether you live or die, and that affects the whole team. You’re making it more dangerous for everyone.”

Tony backed away from Gibbs again and crossed his arms over his chest. “Pot, meet Kettle. Go look in a mirror, Gibbs. Hell, if it wasn’t for the cheating, your freaking death wish would have broken us up.”

Gibbs pressed his lips together in frustration. This was a road he didn’t need to go down anymore. That night they’d had a huge fight, Tony had kicked him out ‘for good,’ and he’d been a drunken idiot and ran to Hollis. There was obviously a difference in opinion as to whether that constituted ‘cheating,’ but it was never a good idea to bring it up.

“Doesn’t mean it’s right. It took me too damn long to figure out that you idiots would follow me to Hell and back, and I wasn’t the only one who’d get myself killed if I kept it up. You knew that. And now you wanna be like that? You want to throw yourself into the job, great. But Ziva? McGee? Abby? Palmer? They’ll follow you down any fucking rabbit hole you find, even if you tell them not to. It’s one thing to take a bullet in the heat of the moment. It’s another to constantly push yourself into dangerous situations without caring about the consequences.”

Tony shrugged. “You sound like a damn shrink.”

Gibbs nodded, “Well, not exactly something I advertise, but yeah, I got one, ok? Maybe you should too. You pretend like you’re doing all of this for everyone else? Bullshit. A wise man once told me I acted like that because I was a selfish asshole with a God complex.”

Tony snorted.

Gibbs continued, quieter this time. “You had my six. I’m walking and talking because of you, and it’s not the first time, and I'm grateful for that. There's a reason I trust you with my life. But Jesus, Tony, just stop trying to get yourself killed, or you’re benched.”

McGee backed away from the door when he heard the heavy footsteps approaching. He made it to the nurse’s station before he heard the hinge squeak, so he turned and looked at Gibbs in feigned surprise. “There you are! Boss, the nurses are looking for you. Security too.”   

Gibbs grunted and pushed past him, thankfully hitting the arm which wasn’t in a sling. Tony ignored them both and walked the other way down the hall.

McGee followed behind Gibbs to help get him discharged. He was still dumbfounded by some of what he heard. Of course, Gibbs was pissed that someone else was acting like him. That wasn’t unexpected. The implication that he and Tony had been an item, though...he was still reeling from that.

Tony stormed down the hall away from his teammates and slammed open the door to the stairwell. He leaned against the railing, dropped his head, and took some deep breaths. How  _ dare _ Gibbs talk to him like that, especially after he saved both him and McGee. Gibbs had a concussion, some broken ribs, a broken nose, and multiple facial fractures. McGee had gotten away with only bruising, a dislocated shoulder, and concussion. If Tony hadn’t run in there, Gibbs’s face and brains would be splattered across the cement floor of the warehouse, and who knows what could have happened to McGee. If anything, this was Gibbs’s fault--he’s the one who went into the warehouse without backup. 

He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder where he’d been hit by the crowbar. There was only a mild ache now, and a slight grey tinge to his skin, similar to a well-healed bruise. He wondered if that would go away. After 3 weeks, his knee was still marked up, but it was barely noticeable by now. Not bad for something that normally would have required stitches and possibly a brace for 6 weeks.


	6. EXPERIMENTS IN THE WOODS

“Whaddaya Got?” Gibbs asked the sheriff gruffly, as the team made their way to the scene. 

“Found a pile of body parts. Mostly appendages. My coroner says the cuts were done peri-mortem, and done cleanly, so there’s a chance their owners survived, since no two pieces came from the same person. No guarantee the owners are still alive, though, so we’re treating it as a homicide until we hear different.” The sheriff handed Gibbs a file. “Called you boys because we could use the muscle, and this here means that you should be involved. One of the body parts belongs to a Marine. Dwayne Wright, Staff Sergeant out of Lejeune. Went AWOL when he was supposed to be deployed before Christmas. He’s got a wife and 2 kids.”

Tony looked at the photo on the top of the file. “Sheriff,” he asked, “That’s a finger. Not even a fingertip. How’d you ID it so fast?”

Gibbs flipped to another photo and showed Tony. On the underside of the finger was a tattoo of the USMC seal. The sheriff nodded, “It’s blurry, but I spent enough time in the service to know a Marine seal when I see it. DNA match did the rest.” She shook her head, “Wife’s coming to our office as soon as she can. I don’t know what to tell her, Agents.”

Tony held out his hand, and Gibbs handed him the file. “You tell her the truth. You found evidence that, as of…” He read the coroner’s notes, “3 weeks ago, her husband was alive, but you don’t know anything else.”

“Yeah, still not an easy chat.”

Tony kept flipping through the photos until something else caught his eye. One end of the finger was healed normally, like someone had cut off the tip and stitched it right away. The other end, the one nearest the palm, hadn’t been stitched. But it was still partially healed over. The healing edges were covered in a grey, textured skin. He clenched his teeth and quickly reread the coroner’s notes--only a brief mention of discolored skin, nothing else.

“DINOZZO!” Gibbs shouted.

Tony shook his head, “What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“I was reading the case file.” Tony answered.

Gibbs shook his head, “Go with the sheriff and talk to the wife. And open your ears.”

McGee handed the camera bag to Ziva, “I’ll go too, Boss.”

Gibbs looked at the pair. “Fine.” He waved at them. “Ziva, let’s talk to the coroner. See what puzzle pieces they’ve got.”

In the car, McGee slammed the folder shut. “What was it?”

Tony frowned, staring at the road ahead. “What was what?”

“Something in this folder, it freaked you out. I’ve been following your lead long enough I can see it.”

Tony took a deep breath. “I think you’re seeing things.”

McGee waited. He watched Tony.

“OK, now you’re staring McWeirdo. Knock it off!  _ That’s _ what is freaking me out.” Tony shuddered.

“Is it Gibbs?” McGee asked.

“What about Gibbs?”

“I heard you. In the hospital.” McGee admitted. “Is he messing with you? Because he’s a dick, and he’s pretty good at screwing with people.”

Tony sighed. “You don’t know what you heard, Probie.”

“Probie now? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” McGee felt Tony getting defensive. “Come on, it’s not like you’re the only one to have a thing for the Boss.” He hoped a little commiseration would help Tony open up.

“A thing?” Tony scoffed. “A  _ thing _ ?” He pulled the car onto the side of the road and turned to face McGee. “We were together. We were more than a  _ thing _ .” It felt surprisingly good to say that out loud.

“You said  _ years _ , Tony, I assumed you were more than a thing. Is that what’s got you freaked?”

Tony had a choice to make. He  _ was  _ freaked. McGee didn’t seem to have an issue with the whole Gibbs thing, and he’d always been good about trusting Tony. “So...you’ve had a thing for the Boss?”

McGee blushed, which surprised Tony. “Well, I mean, usually I don’t swing that way, but certain people just…” He shrugged. “It’s a charisma thing, I guess.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“OK,” McGee smirked, “And his ass.”

Tony chuckled, “Yeah, been there. Literally.”

McGee scrunched his face, “Ooooh, nooo, too far, Tony...ugh.”

“OK, McNosy, you wanna know what’s freaking me out?” He grabbed the file and flipped to the photo of the end of the finger. “Look at that edge. See that?”

McGee frowned, “That’s not normal...”

“No shit. Biomedical Engineering tell you that?”

McGee rolled his eyes. “It was a Bachelor’s. It’s not like I got a medical license.”

Tony pulled up his pant leg. “Look familiar?”

McGee frowned. “Your knee? What about it?”

“Ugh, look at the skin. It’s not as fun if I have to explain it.”

McGee leaned down to get a closer look. Tony had a sudden need to think of something significantly un-sexy, as Tim got a bit closer to his cock.

“Holy crap, Tony...that looks like…”

“Yeah. It’s fucking magic or something. I bashed my knee so bad I think I saw bone. That should have laid me up for weeks. Instead, I just have a scar. Same here.” He pulled his shirt down to expose the grey bruise-like mark on his shoulder. “The crowbar. I felt it break my freaking bones, Tim. Forty minutes later? I’m fine.”

McGee couldn’t help it. He grabbed Tony’s shirt and pulled it open further, running his hand across the unmarred skin. Tony’s un-sexy thoughts were not helping at the moment. McGee had really soft hands.

“Holy shit. This is…” He pressed and squeezed the shoulder joint and muscles around it.

“Tim, if you’re going to keep fondling me, you really should buy me dinner first. I’m not that kinda girl.”

Tim backed away, “Oh, sorry, I just...How?”

Tony smirked, “I’m not complaining. You can give me a massage sometime.” He buttoned his shirt. “But to answer your question...I have no freaking idea.”

“And now your  _ issue _ is coming up in a case.”

“Yup. And I’d rather not find my finger in a ditch somewhere, if it is connected somehow. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m never that lucky.”

McGee sighed. “You have the  _ worst _ luck, DiNozzo.”

_~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~_

Back at NCIS, the case itself turned out to be much simpler than Tony and Tim feared. 

“I got it!” Abby shouted on the big screen. “I pieced together the fingerprints we found on the body parts, and I got a match!”

“Great, Abs, where are they?” Gibbs asked.

“Well, I didn’t get  _ that _ . I mean, when someone disappears, I can’t just make them un-disappear.”

“Abby, I do not understand,” Ziva frowned at the screen.

“Oh, right, sorry...got ahead of myself.” Abby spun away from the cam and pulled up a file onto the monitor. “Meet Dr. Edwin Granger. Went to Lincoln County High School in Nevada, then College of Southern Nevada. Bought his way into Yale and got his medical license. Barely. Never practiced, but he went into research. Seemed like normal stuff, from what I could see--he was all about the whole ‘growing an ear on a mouse’ thing--but his personal life? Freaky. Apparently he thought he was abducted by aliens when he was a kid, but it turned out he was kidnapped by an uncle and...yeah, the uncle went to prison for ‘probing’ him. So, traumatized, right? Anyway. He still was WAY crazy about aliens. Then he started telling his friends he was working on some alien project with a secret government society. He went all nuts and lost his job, lost his house, was arrested for squatting in some abandoned houses really close to ‘Area 51,’ and then  _ poof _ , gone.” She took a deep breath.

“Poof?” Gibbs asked.

“Yeah. Like, zero trace. Nobody’s heard from him for two years.”

“Except those fingerprints were put on those body parts…” Tony paused.

“Over the past 6 months.” Abby finished.

“So, Dr. Frankenstein still trying to grow body parts?” Tony wondered aloud. “Couldn’t get ahead in his regular life, so he figured he’d branch off on his own?”

“His family had money. A lot of it. I mean, you’d have to to bribe your way into a place like Yale. He drained his accounts in the months before he disappeared. He planned this. Probably spent cash to buy a place to do his work.” Abby theorized.

“DiNozzo, David, find that place.” Gibbs barked. “McGee, if he’s doing medical experiments, he can’t exactly go to a store and pay cash. Find the transactions.”

“On it Boss,”  
“Yes, Boss,”   
“Got it, Boss,” They all replied in unison. 

“Go team!” Abby shouted from the display before Gibbs turned it off.

 “Rude,” she muttered at the camera in her lab. 

  _~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~_

Tony and Ziva found the plot of land in the middle of nowhere that he’d purchased about 15 years ago, and the contractor who put a steel building on it 3 years ago. He was smart, and covered his tracks, but not well enough. 

Within a week of getting the call from dispatch, the team found themselves working with the locals and surrounding the darkened building. They burst into the room, guns drawn, to find the man hanging from a beam. In his pocket was a note.

_ I’ve failed. _

It seemed too good to be true. Too easy. Too well-packaged. But there was nothing to indicate anything different. When the team really investigated the location, everything pointed to a dejected psychopath. 

There were bodies piled in a shed on the rear of the property, in various states of decomposition. 

Granger had notes. Lots of notes. Some legitimate medical journals, some articles from alien conspiracy blogs, and lots in between. He kept meticulous records. What body parts healed, whether he was able to graft anything to anything else, which “subjects” died, etc. Everything he wrote had evidence to back it up. 

Every victim was accounted for in some way, except the Marine. He wasn’t in any of the journals. There was no evidence the man had ever been to the property. Tony was perplexed, but grateful, because that meant there was no mention of how the finger would have healed itself after it was severed from the man.

Tony knew it bothered Gibbs to no end that he couldn’t figure out the connection. But when it came to jurisdiction, without proof that the Marine was involved beyond 2” of his left middle finger, the locals had the case. They didn’t care about the tiny loose end, because they’d caught the killer, and they didn’t even have to put him on trial or anything. Wrapped up in a neat little box without spending extra taxpayer dollars.

That all suited Tony just fine.


	7. COMFORT IN KINK

Tony groaned in bliss. “Crap, Tim. Where did you learn this?”

McGee rolled his eyes. “I watched some YouTube videos. You sure you’re OK?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Tony mumbled into the pillow.

Tim marvelled at the expanse of beautifully muscled skin beneath his hands. “It’s still weird, y’know?”

Tony snorted, “Which part of this is weird?”

“OK, all of it, but I was talking about…” Tim traced the already fading grey lines he’d put across Tony’s shoulder blades just half an hour before. He’d been especially forceful this time.

“If it’s too weird, we can stop,” Tony immediately felt guilty for bringing Tim into this. “I mean, Gibbs would kill us if he found out…”

McGee smacked the back of Tony’s head gently. “Knock it off. We’re not dating. His rule is against dating.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re telling me you can resist all this?”

Another eye roll, “Tony, you’re attractive, and we have mutual interests, but you’re my friend. And you’re hung up on Gibbs, so even if I wanted you, it’d never work. No, I’m good with what we have.”

After Tony had confided in McGee about the mysterious healing powers (which he still didn’t want to question or get answers for because he REALLY didn’t want to be a guinea pig), they’d started hanging out more. One day, Tim noticed blood on the inside of Tony’s jacket when he took it off at his apartment. That was when he’d discovered that Tony had a thing for being tied up and flogged. Or spanked. Or caned. Didn’t matter what, really.

It had surprised Tim. Tony played the confident alpha male so well. He wasn’t surprised that there was  _ more _ to Tony, but he was surprised that Tony enjoyed subspace so much.

Unfortunately, with his newfound “condition,” Tony had needed rougher scenes to get to the edge, and he admitted that he hadn’t been the safest in his choice of partners.

So McGee offered his services. No sex, no relationship, no change to anything in their regular lives, but when they were doing a scene, McGee would be Tony’s Dom. Tony could trust that McGee was safe, even if he was being rough. And that trust made everything that much better.

Tony felt his cock stir as he thought back to their first scene. It was awkward, at first. McGee had done this before, but only with women, and generally had never really gone as far as his own fantasies had wanted. But he had some tricks up his sleeves. He liked the surprise factor. That was his thing.

> _After stripping Tony down to his boxers, he locked Tony's hands together in leather cuffs, which was expected. He pushed Tony against the wall, which was not unexpected. Then he pushed Tony's arms above his head and clipped them to a chain attached just beneath a sconce. Tony looked up at it and grinned._
> 
> _“Damn Probie, you're prepared.”_
> 
> _“Eagle Scout.” McGee responded, then grabbed Tony's waist and spun him to face the wall, and cuffed his ankles together._
> 
> _It had started with a paddle, and then a blindfold came into play. And clothespins. Then a flogger. Tony was so blissed out, he hardly registered the precum dripping onto McGee’s hardwoods, his cock jerking every time the younger man flicked at the oversensitive skin of his back or thighs._
> 
> _As negotiated, Tony was allowed to cum if he needed, and when McGee noticed just how far gone he was, he spun Tony around to face him. “You good?” He asked._
> 
> _Tony’s head fell back against the wall behind him. “Mmmmmmhmmmm”_
> 
> _Tim looked down at the tent in Tony’s shorts, mirroring the one in his own jeans, and the streaks of fluid that had dripped down his legs. “Can you cum?”_
> 
> _Tony whimpered. “Please…”_
> 
> _They’d talked about it, but it was still weird. Tim reached up and roughly pinched Tony’s left nipple._
> 
> _Tony cried out and his hips thrust forward involuntarily._
> 
> _“Do you want me to help you, Tony?”_
> 
> _Tony whimpered and nodded._
> 
> _“Not good enough…” Tim found his headspace again and grasped Tony’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Words. What do you want?” He said strongly._
> 
> _Tony swallowed, “I want to cum, Tim. Please. I need to.”_
> 
> _ “And you want my help?” Tim clarified. _
> 
> _“Yes.” Tony couldn’t have been any clearer._
> 
> _Tim reached into the bag Tony had brought and pulled out the clear toy. He removed the top off the plastic case and poured lube into the hole. Roughly, he yanked Tony’s boxers down, and pushed the fleshlight onto his cock._
> 
> _“FFFFFFuuuuck” Tony groaned. Tim slowly pushed until the base of the toy was pushed against Tony’s body. Without moving the toy, he began pinching and twisting Tony’s nipples. The more he abused them, and pushed Tony’s aching back against the cold, textured wall, the harder Tony got. He began thrusting into the toy, and quickly felt himself topple over the edge, just as McGee leaned forward and bit his nipple._

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” McGee said, noticing Tony’s squirming.

“Can’t help it. Aftercare is sexy.” Tony mumbled.

“Really? Already?” McGee was impressed. He’d made Tony cum 3 times already, and apparently he was ready for another. “Scene is done, though--this one’s on you.”

“Awww, fine. Party pooper.” Tony rolled over and winked, pulling himself up to recline against McGee’s headboard. “You sure, though? I could help you too, y’know.”

McGee shook his head, “Rules, Tony. I’m fine.” Though the thought of sinking himself into Tony’s bright red ass after a paddling had crossed his mind more than once, he pushed that aside and ignored what was happening in his own pants.

“Yeah, yeah. So, any grand plans for the holiday?” Tony fell easily into friendly banter once he was back to himself. It was almost the 4th of July. In theory, they had the whole long weekend off. There were never any guarantees, but everyone was hoping, of course, that it would work out.

“Nothing grand. Just going to see my parents and sister. Do a BBQ. The usual “rah rah USA” stuff the Navy does. That sort of thing.”

Tony nodded. “You hate that crap, though.”

“Yeah, but…” McGee got quiet.

Tony would never get used to just how different Tim was when they were doing a scene, compared with work/friend McGee. He honestly didn’t know which one was real, and which was an act, because they were both so different, but also so authentic. “Tim. Don’t do something just because you’re worried your dad will want you to. You deserve better than that.”

“Um...hello...who are you, and what have you done with Tony ‘King of Daddy Issues’ DiNozzo?” McGee smirked. “What are  _ your _ plans, hm?”

“Well, I’ll have you know I’m traveling down to the beach with lots of busty blondes and margaritas. Nothing says ‘America’ like Girls Gone Wild!”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you told Gibbs.”

Tony flinched. “You eavesdrop?”

“I don’t mean to, you know that, but ever since we’ve been, y’know…” He gestured between them, “I can’t exactly ignore when you’re upset. Gets me all protective. I heard you tell him you’re visiting your father.”

Tony flopped down onto the bed and covered his face with his arm. “Don’t remind me.”

Tim leaned forward and lifted Tony’s arm. “Why are you going if you don’t want to?”

Tony didn’t back away. He met Tim’s gaze and smiled slightly. “Guilt?”

“Oh Tony.” Tim brushed his fingers across Tony’s face. “You’re too nice, you know that, right?”

Tony felt himself slipping back down into subspace--it happened sometimes after an intense scene, when Tim was being all caring and protective. He shook it off, though. “Nah, just ask my last 7 girlfriends,” and he winked.

“You’re a dick,” Tim leaned back and shook his head.

“That’s pretty much what they’d say.”

_~~~~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~~~~_

Tim looked at Tony’s desk for the 17th time that morning.

“McGee, call DiNozzo again.” Gibbs barked.

“Yes Boss.” He hit redial on his phone…”No answer, and now his voicemail box is full. Something’s wrong.”

Gibbs hit some buttons on his desk phone.

“Gibbsgibbsgibbs, any news?” Abby’s voice came over the speaker.

“Track him, Abbs.” If Tony were just late, Gibbs wasn’t going to invade his privacy like that, but he was an hour late and not answering his phone. This was uncharacteristic, and Gibbs needed to know where he was. If it turned out he was just sleeping off a holiday bender, there would be hell to pay.

“Um, Gibbs...his phone is in his apartment.”

“McGee, David, grab your gear.”

At Tony's apartment, they found his gun, badge, wallet, and phone on the coffee table. Nothing out of order, no sign of a struggle, and his closets were empty.

Gibbs threw the phone onto the floor in a rage. Where the  _ hell _ was his SIC?


	8. WHITE WALLS

Tony rolled over onto his back and stretched. It wasn't until his hand hit a wall that he realized he wasn't at home. He bolted upright and looked around.

Solid white walls. A twin bed with cheap sheets and a crappy hospital style waffle blanket. Frosted plexiglass window with bars on the outside. Heavy duty fireproof door. Stainless steel toilet and sink system in the corner..

He ran to the door and grabbed the handle. _Of course it's locked, DiNozzo,_ he thought. Nobody is going to kidnap him and not lock the door behind them. But it was worth a try.

 _Think...find a weakness…_ Tony started by the door and searched the entire room for something that could lead to a means of escape. Unfortunately, there were no loose areas of floor or wall, the window was secured from the outside and looked bulletproof, the slat in the door was barely big enough for his hands, there was no way he could reach through there and grab anything useful.

“Ah, Agent, I see you're awake.” a voice sounded from just outside the door.

Tony tried to look through the slat.

“Oh, I'm not there. But I can see everything you do, and I can talk to you whenever I want.”

“What do you want?!” Tony shouted.

“You'll find out soon enough. But for now, it is dinner time.”

Someone pushed a tray of food through the slot on the door.

“Hey! Hey! Talk to me! Where am I?!” Tony tried to call out to the person, but got no response.

The voice returned, “You’ve been unconscious for approximately 68 hours now, it is in your best interest to eat something during the next hour. You will then have 12 hours of darkness during which you should sleep. We begin tomorrow.”

“Begin what?”

No response.

“Answer me! Who are you?! BEGIN WHAT??!!”

Nothing.

Tony railed against the door for several more minutes before he felt his stomach growl. He wasn’t getting anywhere by yelling into thin air, so he checked the tray. Mass-produced, probably microwaved, lasagna, with peas and applesauce on a flimsy styrofoam tray with biodegradable plastic fork and spoon. He poked at the semi-congealed cheese on the main portion and begrudgingly tasted it. It was definitely somewhere between “awful” and “mediocre TV dinner,” but the minute he tasted it, his body didn’t care. He downed the whole thing in 30 seconds.

Once he had a few minutes to digest, his brain started working again. He tried to retrace the last day he remembered, but it was more than a little blurry. 

> _It was the 3rd of July, and the party was that afternoon. He remembered spending the previous day and a half with his father, being paraded around like a prize stud at the racetrack. He remembered getting to the catered “BBQ”, with a live band. Folks were dressed up in designer casual wear, trying to look like they “didn’t care” but also were trying to impress everyone else in the yard. The firepit was stocked with organic uncured smoked sausage and grass-fed lamb burgers, there was a locally-raised pig roasting on a spit, and the beer was small batch craft brew. It was nauseating, really._
> 
> _His dad had brought him a beer, and they were chatting with one of his rich white-haired friends about the stock market and imports, and Tony felt the alcohol start to hit._
> 
> _He’d had half a beer._
> 
> _Half a beer his father had brought him._
> 
> _Half a beer that was open when he got it._

“Mother fucker!” Tony screamed. His father had always been a dick, but this? What the hell was this?

“You can’t do this!!” He shouted into the silence.

As if in response, the lights clicked off.

“NOOOOOOOOO”

Exactly 12 hours later, the lights in Tony’s cell all came on at once, and a strange smell filled the room. He tried to run for the door, tried to breathe through the slat they’d used for food, but it was closed. With no other source of air, within moments, he fell to the ground unconscious.

~~~~~NCIS~~NCIS~~NCIS~~NCIS~~~~~

“It’s been DAYS! Where is DINOZZO?!” Gibbs roared, throwing his mostly-empty coffee cup across the room, miraculously landing in the trash can.

“AGENT GIBBS!” Director Vance yelled from the balcony. “My office. NOW.” He walked back without waiting for a response.

Gibbs took the stairs two at a time. “Goddamnit, Leon, I’ve got a missing Agent, I’m not taking some pissant meth dealer case right now.”

“You don’t have a missing Agent.” Vance stood behind his desk calmly. “Shut the door.”

Gibbs glared at him. “DiNozzo is _missing_.”

“I said, _shut the door,_ Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs turned around and slammed the door shut. “Happy?”

“Not in the slightest.” Vance sighed. “You never saw this file.” He handed a thick folder over the desk.

Gibbs snatched it from him and opened it. Inside were photos of DiNozzo. Undercover, medical, even at office holiday parties. Behind the photos were a selection of reports he’d written over the years. There was an entire section from his time as Team Lead. “What is this, Leon?”

“DHS’s file on him. They snagged him, Gibbs. Deep cover, no contact until it’s over. Didn’t tell me until this morning. They got some wires crossed, apparently.”

“How long is the op?” Gibbs didn’t like it. But if he had to manage without Tony for a few weeks, he’d survive.

“No end date.” Vance sighed. “One of my best damn agents, and they tell me I might not get him back at all.”

“WHAT?” Gibbs dropped the file back on Vance’s desk.

“Yeah, my reaction too. But the fact is, he’s gone, and he’s got orders, and trying to find him could compromise his cover, whatever it is, and if he’s that deep, it’s a dangerous one. You gotta let him go.”

Gibbs was floored. He felt the rage bubbling up inside him. Felt his biceps tense and his fists curl. But something else, deep in the pit of his stomach, was threatening to send him off the deep end. Tony was gone. No more jokes. No more yabba yabba. No more smacking his head when he needed to touch him. No second chance. He couldn’t find any words, so he stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard that 2 frames fell off the wall, and Vance’s bamboo plant toppled off his desk.

 

T.B.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DEEPLY apologize to my recipient. I did not intend for this to become a "to be continued" story...But it will be completed before authors are revealed. The plot is written, but time was not on my side when it came to actually writing the words. Unfortunately, several people on my personal Christmas list are getting late gifts as well :\\. But, since this technically fits the minimums of the challenge, I posted it as is for the next day or so.


	9. ADD-070871-B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> semi-graphic violence...sorry, forgot to note it! skip to the end for summary

Tony opened his eyes and found that he was nearly naked, strapped almost upright to what felt like a hospital bed, and couldn’t move. He could hear someone else in the room, but couldn’t see them. He yanked at the restraints around his arms and legs, tried to pull his head from the strap across his forehead, to no avail.

“You’re just going to tire yourself out, y’know.” The disembodied voice behind him said.

“Better than lying here without fighting,” Tony growled.

“Yeah, yeah,we hear it all the time.” A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat came around in front of him and shone a light into his eyes, then took his temperature in his ear. Tony felt a blood pressure cuff tighten around his arm.

“What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” He asked.

“This? Well, hon, this is to monitor your reactions. And if you react too severely, we’ll know about it in time to keep you from dying.” She smiled. “Now,  _ this _ won’t hurt a bit.” She took out a razor and shaved chunks of Tony’s chest so she could place electrodes directly on the skin.

Tony flinched and twisted as best he could, just to make her job harder, but she seemed to be a professional at this. “Well, I mean, I’ve had girls shave me before, but usually it’s below the belt, and leads to something more fun than what I’m guessing you have in mind.” He laughed, “OK, I admit...there was this one time I let a girl tie me up.  _ That _ was a fun night…”

The woman patted his cheek. “Oh, darlin’, we’re starting up here. There are a whole lot of tests to be run, so don’t you worry, we’ll get there.”

Tony was pretty sure he shrank 3 inches at that statement.

The woman went to an intercom on the wall “We’re ready for you.”

Tony heard a door buzz open and someone walk in. “Thank you JodyLee,” A male voice said. The snap of medical gloves made Tony jump. “The subject is male, approximately 40 years old--”

“THIRTY NINE!” Tony shouted.

The man didn’t even pause his dictation. “In excellent physical health with no known underlying conditions or familial predispositions.” Suddenly, a searing pain ran up the bottom of his foot, he jerked away as best he could and cursed.

“Fully responsive to pain stimuli.” The man was still talking into what looked like a handheld voice recorder.

“I’ll show you pain stimuli,” Tony hissed, “My team  _ will _ find me. And I  _ will _ get out of here. And you  _ will _ suffer.

“Control test 1a: sharp force surface wounds. Begin at 10:04AM.”

Tony’s eyes widened, “Wait, what?” He ground his teeth together when a scalpel cut across his forearm. Then again on his chest, his thigh, his cheek, his scalp, the back of his hand, and the bottom of his foot. He growled and groaned, but they were clean cuts and didn’t warrant a scream.

And as quickly as he’d appeared, the man left. No taunting, no conversation. Tony couldn’t figure this out. Why was he here?

“10:09 AM,” The woman said into the recorder, “Test A wounds are approximately 50% of their original length and depth.” Tony heard metal clatter on the tray. “Secondary test commencing at…..10:10am”

Tony grunted as the woman carefully sliced parallel to each original wound, and then sat down on a chair in the corner.

_ This _ was why he was there.  _ This _ was the reason he hadn't told anyone about this healing weirdness. Well, also partly because he still felt like it wasn't real and he was hallucinating it all, but mostly the whole “not wanting to be a guinea pig” thing.

Tony took some deep breaths to try and calm himself down. He needed to get through this with his sanity so he could figure out a way to get out of there.

The chair creaked, the recorder made its little beep sound. “10:14am...Test A wounds are fully healed, minimal scar tissue present. Test B wounds are approximately 50% of their original length and depth. Tertiary testing commencing at…” She paused, scalpel in hand…”10:16am.”

Tony tensed and grimaced, but only cried out when the scalpel cut his foot for the third time.

If there were a Hell, Tony was pretty sure he'd just found it.

By 12:05, the woman Tony had dubbed Nurse Hatchet was paging Doc Holliday. Or whoever he was.

“Report?” The man walked into the room and flipped through a clipboard as he paced around Tony.

“Initial observations are promising. Healing slowed by approximately 50% after 10 rounds of tests, with overlapping tissue affected the most, as was expected.”

Considering they'd gotten to “T” before calling in the boss, Tony was guessing he wasn't healing very well at the moment.

The doctor placed the clipboard down onto what sounded like a desk behind him and approached Tony. Even in his current state, Tony was itching to confront him. “It's about time you joined the party, doc,” he said weakly. “I was getting worried you'd left. I'm all about getting tied up for a good time, but I like a little switcharoo… when‘s it my turn?”

The man completely ignored Tony's goading. He put on a pair of gloves and pressed against the still open wounds on his arm, then chest and foot.  “Interesting. If this performance is consistent, he should do very nicely in our program.”

“What program, you sicko?” Tony shouted, hoarsely.

The man sighed. As he removed his bloody gloves, he turned to face Tony. “Usually my subjects are anaesthetised for this, but we felt that might be affecting the healing. Now I see why we kept them asleep in the first place. But fine, to answer your question: you are here to help your government fight terrorism using advanced technology only available in the USA. You were chosen because of your history of physical endurance, your mental capacity and intelligence, and the lack of familial impact your absence will cause. You've been reassigned, former Agent DiNozzo.” He turned to his associate. “Put him in group B.”

“What the fuck does that all mean? The government does some screwed up shit, but what the hell is this?” Tony yanked against his restraints, trying again to feel for any weak spots.

The woman approached him with what looked like a metal-tipped pen with a cord. She stood in front of him for a minute, waiting...for something. Tony wasn't sure what. Until she licked her finger and slightly touched the side of the metal tip. And it sizzled.

“Woah, woah, wait, what's that? Scalpels are one thing, that…” She stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, just over his heart, pushing him back against the cold metal behind him. “Pretty sure if you,stab me there, I'll die…” Tony started pulling at the restraints in earnest, panicking now.

The woman ignored him. She leaned forward and, right next to her hand, along Tony's ribs, began burning something into his skin. Tony screamed this time, the pain almost making him pass out. As soon as she was done, she leaned back and paused. Tony took a few breaths, feeling the tears running down his face, joining the sweat of the past 2 hours.

And then she did it again, going over the skin that had just started healing.

Three..

More.

Times.

Well, at least three Tony remembered before he passed out. He woke up back in his cell, shirtless, with a bandage on his side, and a tray of food next to him.

Ignoring the food, Tony reached down and pulled off the bandage. Underneath, the skin had healed, but what was left behind looked like a dark grey tattoo. ADD-070871-B.

~~~~ _ NCIS _ ~~~ _ NCIS _ ~~~ _ NCIS _ ~~~ _ NCIS _ ~~~~~

McGee downed another shot. This was his fault. Gibbs was a dick, but if h'd just been able to convince Tony to tell him what was going on, he'd have moved Heaven and Hell to keep him safe. Now some government agency had figured it out, and Tony was probably off somewhere getting blown to bits in places they would consider it inhumane to send a dog or other trained animal.

“Easy, kid. Leave the heavy lifting to me.” Gibbs's voice broke through his wallowing.

“No. This is my fault.” He cringed immediately after saying it. Damn liquor.

“McGee, unless you made a deal with a devil to steal Tony's job, it's not your fault. Pretty sure that's a rule you didn't break.” He took his own shot from the bartender and tossed it back.

“What rule  _ did _ I break?” McGee glared at him.

Gibbs shrugged, “I know my people, Tim. Don't think anyone else figure out you two were screwin’ around, but…” He tapped the bar and made eye contact with the bartender. “Bourbon, neat.”

McGee’s eyes widened, “No, it’s not like that…”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

McGee sighed. Of course Gibbs  _ thought _ he knew everything. “We weren’t screwing. Tony enjoys certain activities…” He paused until Gibbs nodded in recognition. “He was making risky choices, and since I also enjoy those types of activities, we made a deal. But no, we weren’t dating, and we weren’t having sex.”

Gibbs took his drink and swirled it in the glass. “Why would he do that?” He took a swallow. “Such an idiot.”

McGee shook his head, “No, he’s not an idiot. He had some shit happen to him. I tried to get him to tell you, I figured we had more time. It didn’t seem like a bad thing, he just didn’t handle it well.”

Gibbs clenched his teeth. He didn’t deserve Tony’s trust, but it always got to him when he wasn’t the first to know. “What shit, McGee?”

“He was taking unnecessary risks because…” Tim swallowed hard. “Because he couldn’t get hurt.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, he could get hurt, but he didn’t stay hurt. Like, when he saved your ass from the crowbar-wielding psycho Marine? He ended up with some weird bruising, but the bones he felt breaking? Fixed in a matter of hours. And his pain tolerance went way up, so he needed rougher stuff to get the escape he needs after the shit we do.”

Gibbs felt the rage simmering beneath the surface. “And you didn’t think to TELL ME?!” He drank the rest of the bourbon and slammed it onto the bar. “Shit like this gets people KILLED!”

“Or reassigned.” Tim mumbled.

GIbbs didn’t respond.

“I fucked up, Gibbs. We gotta find him.”

“Yeah, we do.” Gibbs was pissed, but he dropped a heavy hand on Tim’s shoulder. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is tested on, discovering that his healing abilities diminish with each repeated injury. He is a part of a "program" to help the government fight terrorism using advanced technology, and was chosen specifically for this. He is branded with an identification number.
> 
> McGee feels guilty, Gibbs finds him drinking in a bar, and McGee spills everything. They vow to find him.


	10. DIAMOND POINT

“McGee, perhaps you could speak with Agent Gibbs about this obsession he has?” Ziva whispered to Tim when Gibbs went to the bathroom.

“Obsession?” Tim hissed.

“Yes. Tony has been on his new assignment for six weeks now, and Agent Gibbs will not stop trying to find out where he is. Is this not a danger to his safety if he gets found out? If we are not allowed to know where he is located, is there not a reason?” Ziva shook her head, “And on top of all of that, the rate of our success in solving cases is dropping with his inattention. I cannot believe the director will stand for it much longer.”

Tim glanced at the minimized window on his computer where he’d been analyzing satellite images looking for Tony. “Ziva,” He whispered, “Stop it. Tony is family, and we won’t stop looking for him.”

“We?” Ziva looked shocked. “McGee, you should not be enabling Agent Gibbs in this insanity.” Tony winced--he’d been very quiet about his research and it hadn’t been obvious to Ziva before.

“What insanity, David?” Gibbs said from directly behind her.

“Continuing to search for someone who is not missing!” Ziva threw up her hands in defeat. “The two of you are going to lose your jobs over nothing. Tony has gotten a promotion and moved to a new team, and you are just jealous and want to destroy his chances!”

“Get to work, Ziva.” Gibbs pushed past her and sat at his desk. He hadn’t been the same since Tony had been taken. He didn’t have the same gruff drive, he wasn’t drinking much coffee, he wasn’t drinking much bourbon either. He was just...defeated. 

It had hit him especially hard when he and Tim had gone to Tony’s apartment searching for clues, but found it totally cleared out. Tony’s presence was as erased as it could be, and after 6 weeks, the trail, if there had ever been one, was cold as ice.

~~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~~

Tony screamed as loud as he could into the bit in his mouth. He’d lost count of how many fingernails he had lost and regrown in the past...however long he’d been here this time. 

“Recovery period is actually improving,” Nurse Diesel proclaimed (Tony tried to keep sane by creating names for all the protagonists in this horror show).

Dr. Lecter nodded. “Interesting.” He lifted the recorder and it beeped. “Subject’s acute stress response has activated improved healing and over-production of the nanofibers.” He pressed a button on the machine next to Tony, which started the blood pressure cuff. “BP has increased to 260 over 180, heart rate 212...less fit subjects have not been able to reach the hyperproduction phase.” He dropped the recorder and smiled at Tony.

Tony was shaking, he’d passed out earlier, but they’d woken him up, because apparently whatever they were looking for was activated by his “stress response.” He locked eyes with Lecter and tried to spit around the hard rubber.

Lecter huffed in amusement. “Oh, Agent, you have no idea how successful you’ve been. You have singlehandedly proven my theories. All of this has, of course, worked on non-human subjects, but so far our other subjects have not made it to this point. You were an excellent choice, definitely worth the price we paid.”

Tony struggled against the restraints to no avail.

“Yes, of course we needed some assistance in recruiting you. I’ll be honest, I was a bit surprised at how easily your father accepted our payment.”

Tony heard the machines beeping next to him as his rage increased.

Lecter immediately inspected Tony’s left hand. He started the recorder again, “increased adrenaline has produced the temporary increase in healing witnessed in subject A1.”

Tony felt his IV move as Nurse Diesel injected something into it. Quickly, he felt the familiar sensation of dropping into unconsciousness. His last thought was that at least he wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

~~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~~

“GibbsGibbsGibbsGibbs” Abby hissed into the phone.

“Whaddayagot, Abbs?” Gibbs sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Um...not on  _ this _ case…”

Gibbs huffed, “Abbs, I don’t have time for games.”

“It’s...the  _ other _ thing…”

Gibbs frowned. “The cold case?” They hadn’t talked about Tony in over a week. He’d been gone over 2 months at this point, and even though they hadn’t given up, it was getting disheartening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up if Abby was just being unintentionally obtuse.

“I got something...come see.” Abby pulled a “Gibbs” and hung up on him.

Gibbs stood so fast his chair spun. Ziva started to protest, but McGee shook his head.

“Close the door!” Abby shouted from her office when she heard Gibbs storm off the elevator.

“What is it?” Gibbs asked breathlessly.

“I got a hit on the van.” In the beginning, they’d spotted a suspicious van speeding from the street behind the estate where Senior had brought Tony for the BBQ. It had the caterer’s logo on it, but it was a different model and left just as some of the guests started leaving, instead of staying to clean up. All their checks on it had said it was legit, but it was something that Abby had never let go. Thankfully, she knew where it was whenever it went anywhere trackable. She even knew when it was due for inspection.

“So, don’t ask how I got it, but I got a notification that the van went through a camera toll on the New Jersey Turnpike. That’s way farther away than anywhere else it’s been, so I followed it on every camera I could find. It’s in upstate NY now. I lost it when it got off the toll road route 87.”

“Where?” Gibbs angled himself toward the door, phone out ready to dial McGee.

“A town called Diamond Point? Looks small you might--” Abby didn’t finish, Gibbs was already gone.

“Damnit, Tony, you better come home,” Abby whispered to nobody. She wiped away the tears and got back to work. Unfortunately, they still had someone using Navy ships to smuggle exotic (and sometimes endangered) animals and she was trying to hack into the website they’d used for their orders.

“You’re in charge, McGee,” Gibbs said, curtly.

Just as he was about to flip the phone closed, McGee shouted, _“WAIT!_ ”

“What?” he yelled.

_“Whatever you found, I’m coming with you.”_ Gibbs heard a bag and keys rustling on the other end of the call.

“No, you’re not. I’ll be benched for this, and I don’t need to worry about your ruined career along with Tony’s safety. If I need you, I’ll call.” He hung up and started the car. Once he was safely on his way and wouldn’t be anywhere near DC police, he decided it was time to let Vance know he was gone. “Dial Leon,” He told his car. He didn’t give a crap how it worked, but McGee had set up the calling on his car, and it worked pretty darn well.

_ “Gibbs, where the hell did you disappear to? McGee’s down there giving orders like he’s in charge.” _

“He is. I’m taking some personal time. Just had to head up north to see someone. I’ll put in my leave request when I get back.” Before Vance could respond, Gibbs hit the red button on his steering wheel and pressed the accelerator. Tony had been gone long enough, and either Gibbs was going to save his ass, or ream him a new one for not making contact.

~~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~~

Tony was so exhausted. He’d lost weight, he’d lost muscle mass, he was nauseous most of the time from the stress and adrenaline they were forcing on him (sometimes intravenously now). On the plus side, he’d heard Dr. Heiter on the phone with someone about needing to get him back to peak condition. They’d cut back on the torture, they’d started giving him better food, and it was a relief. But if they wanted Tony to bulk up, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. He picked at the food, even though his stomach growled. He drank water from the meager sink in his cell, not the fruity, slightly chalky, protein smoothies they now sent with his meals. He complained of headaches and dizziness. Anything to make himself look less appealing as a subject.

After what felt like 2-3 days of solitude, during which Tony slept well for the first time in...he didn’t know how long, because the lights were always on, and meals didn’t seem to be regular...Tony heard a scream. A high pitched, blood-curdling scream that would make any horror movie starlet jealous. And as the physical volume went down, Tony *felt* it rising up inside his head, louder and louder, until he couldn’t help but echo its pain with his own voice, grabbing at his head as it felt like it was going to explode.

Suddenly...it stopped. Tony lay on the floor, panting.  _ What the fuck? _ That had never happened before. Maybe he was finally going insane. It happens to POWs, like extreme PTSD...except it wasn’t “post” anything, just going crazy.

_ Help us… _

Tony sat up and looked around the room. “Hello? Who’s there?” He had heard someone whisper, he knew it. He went up to the door where the slot was slightly ajar.

_ Please… _

Tony shook his head. It wasn’t coming from the door. He looked around and tried to get closer to the small vents near the ceiling.

_ The children… _

Tony collapsed onto his bed. He was going nuts. Nuts. The voices were in his head. Or, one voice. He’d snapped. His old hero complex was roaring back, fashioning a situation where he needed to rescue children, apparently. Maybe it was his conscience, feeling guilty over choosing Jason over his sister in that fire. He thought about that a lot.

Suddenly, the vents began pumping the room full of a familiar smell. “NOOOO!!” Tony screamed and ran for the door, trying to breathe through the slot, until someone on the outside slid it shut. He knelt at the door and cried as he succumbed to the anaesthesia. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

~~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~NCIS~~~~

“Yeah, they stopped in here for lunch,” The older man behind the register informed Gibbs. He’d stopped at every business in the small tourist village, and finally someone recognized the van.

“What can you tell me about them?” Gibbs asked

“Uh, tall guy, ‘bout your age, but geekier, y’know. Said he was doin’ research in the park. Probably some nature scientist, we get a lot of them. Had a bigger, younger guy with him. Just a bit taller, maybe 40, looked more military.”

Gibbs took out a photo of Tony, “This the guy?”

After a moment’s pause, the man shook his head, “Nah, sorry man. This guy looked more Irish. Reddish hair, paler skin.”

Gibbs didn’t let his disappointment show. “Thanks so much. I’ll take a large coffee and a slice of that pie to go. Did they say anything specifically about where they were headed?”

The man loaded a large slice of cream pie into a plastic container, “Just into the park. It’s a big place, but he said they had a 45 minute drive, if that helps?” He handed Gibbs the pie and coffee, “On the house. Marines, right?”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

“Takes one to know one.”

Gibbs nodded and dropped some bills on the counter anyway. “Then it’s a tip.”

As he left the diner, he pulled out his cell, hoping for service. It’d been spotty up here, but gratefully, he had one bar. Enough to call McGee.

_ “Yeah Boss?” _

“Find me anything you can in a 45 minute radius from my current position. Preferably somewhere that could be a research facility.”

_ “Research? Boss, you think this has to do with…” _

“Tony’s ‘issue?’ Yes, I do. I have a bad feeling.”


End file.
